We’ve been reading the sign for weeks, now. Barriers appeared without warning in mid-August. I happened to be arriving home just when the signs were put in place, so I posed the question – “When will the bridge work begin?”​That’s when I learned we were in this for the long haul: no money had as yet been allocated...or even sought for the project.

When I look beneath the bridge, I can see why a milk truck shouldn’t be rumbling across the crumbling structure. So, although we generally took that road to almost any destination, crossing “our bridge” several dozen times a week, it now looks like our detour along the scenic route will continue indefinitely. (Because, who would begin bridge work in central PA in November???)

It hasn’t all been bad.

The traffic which has always been minimal by nearly any standard has now dwindled to a handful of vehicles daily. My habit of meandering all over the road hunting the best angle for photos may be dangerous if/when cars once again pass our way.

This summer, the empty road nestled in an area devoid of light pollution was the perfect spot for star gazing. With the warm pavement beneath my back, I spent long moments lying on the road discovering planets lined up along the edge of the mountains...Mars, Jupiter, Venus, or figuring out the location constellations with the help of my SkyView app.​Breathtaking splendor. Life giving pause.

​What has always been a quiet place has been transformed to tranquility.

Clouds ignore road closed signs!

Now I find my thoughts wandering down a different path: I’m not sure I want them to fix that bridge.

Of course, I know it’s just a matter of time, and I think at least one of our neighbors will be relieved. Our kindly Farmer Neighbor has offered us unlimited access to his farm lane, effectively minimizing our inconvenience by giving us a place on our side of the bridge to drive through his property and exit beyond the obstructed bridge. (For those of you who are visual, here's what I'm talking about:)

This new development means we’re all seeing each other much more often in the neighborhood; we’re waving multiple times every day. Sometimes Farmer Neighbor looks like he’s fanning a huge fire with his vigorous hat flapping, and his smile is enormous. He’s children are grinning at us too, and waving shyly, and I find myself smiling as I bump along the lane. I didn’t see this coming, the bridge building in our community relationships over the (lack of) bridge building on Hickory Lane. ​Life is like that. People make choices that we may not like or agree with, but we aren’t asked for our input. Bridges that seemed safe are deemed unpassable. Cracks appear in foundations that were once rock solid.

Stuff happens.It feels unfair, inconvenient, maybe even terrible.

Certainly, life changing.

And we feel afraid; we wonder if life will ever be what it once was.

But maybe, in the process of dealing with the stuff, we find the scenic route, we see what we had never noticed before, we discover friendships we might have always driven right by.

We are surprised to hear ourselves feeling grateful for that closed bridge, and we know that in all the ways that are most important, we don’t want to go back.​We embrace the detour.

We choose the scenic route.​We watch for the wonder.

Scenes from the road less travelled:

Silent watcher...Great Blue Heron

We aren't the only ones using the lane...so we try to be kind. And careful.

t I certainly didn't expect to meet this mama and her eighteen ducklings along the lane on a chilly November day!

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I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) ​living life as a country woman who is a writer, gardener, wife, mom, nature observer, teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.